Chapter Six
The meeting Friday evening was at a pavilion at a Forest Service campground that was closed for the winter.
George had insisted on coming with Stacy, and to her surprise, Connor showed up to ride with them.
Stacy slid into the driver seat of her rental SUV before her dad could protest, and guided the vehicle down the narrow snow-covered road in stony silence.
Her father had plenty to say, of course. “How do you know Stacy?” he asked Connor before the man even had his seat belt fastened.
“Someone stole some of the explosives ski patrol uses for avalanche mitigation,” Connor said. “I reported the crime, and Stacy showed up to interview me.”
George, in the front passenger seat, turned toward Connor in the back seat. “What’s your background? Former military?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“I can always tell. I’m a Marine myself.”
“Army Rangers,” Connor said.
“At least we know he can handle himself if things get dicey,” George said.
Stacy said nothing, only tightened her fingers on the steering wheel.
“She’s giving me the silent treatment now,” George said.
“You’d think she was sixteen, not twenty-six.
She lived with me, you know, after her mom and I split up.
Her choice. The two of us made a great team.
She’s smart, like me, and gorgeous, like her mother.
I ran off more than one boy with the wrong idea. ”
She groaned. “Dad. Connor isn’t interested in any of that.”
“I’m just letting him know I’m the type who does whatever it takes to protect his family.”
“I can certainly respect that,” Connor said.
Stacy wished she could see his face. He almost sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
“Dad, I’m not a helpless teenager anymore,” she said. “I’m a trained special agent, and it looks bad to have my father—who has no business being involved in an investigation—showing up to interfere.”
George looked to Connor. “I’m a special agent, too. Did she tell you that?”
“Retired,” she said.
“That wasn’t my idea,” George said. “And I’m not going to interfere. I’m just your backup if things go south. Daughtry had no business sending you out here alone.”
“Because he knows I can handle this,” she said.
“I’m sure you can. But there’s no harm in being careful. Pretend I’m not even here.”
A choked sound from Connor. He was laughing now, she was sure.
George faced forward again. “Where is this place anyway?”
“Only a few more miles,” she said.
“Remote, dark, only one way in,” George said. “Good setup for an ambush. Are you armed, Connor?”
“No, sir.”
George leaned down, then handed something over the back seat. “You can use this, just in case. I’ve still got my sidearm.”
“Dad!”
“I’m sure a former Army Ranger knows how to handle a weapon,” George said. “When you’re dealing with people like this, it’s good to be prepared for anything.”
Stacy clenched her teeth and drove on. There was no sense arguing with her father. She could apologize to Connor later. Or not. It wasn’t as if they were involved or anything. He was simply helping her with her investigation.
The SUV’s headlights illuminated a brown Forest Service sign indicating the turn for the campground. Stacy drove until she spotted a line of cars parked alongside the road, and backed in beside the last vehicle. They got out and headed toward the glow of a lantern a short distance away.
Stacy walked fast, putting some distance between her and the two men.
Connor caught up with her, her father farther behind.
She glanced at him. “I thought you weren’t interested in helping me,” she said.
“Why did you change your mind about coming tonight?” She kept her voice low, not wanting to be overheard by anyone else who might be lurking out here in the darkness.
“No way could I miss seeing you and your dad work this out,” he said.
“He still treats me like I’m sixteen and I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s not the impression I got.”
“What do you know about it?”
“I’m not a federal agent, but it didn’t make sense to me that you were sent here to deal with supposed terrorists by yourself. Maybe your dad is on to something. Who’s Daughtry?”
“My boss’s boss. He was my dad’s special agent in charge the last year he was with the Bureau.”
“It doesn’t sound like George really wanted to retire,” Connor said. “So why did he leave?”
She inhaled a shaky breath, nostrils pinched, then flaring.
“He was shot. The bullet went in under his arm, just slipped past his ballistics vest. He was in the hospital for two weeks.” The image of him in that bed in intensive care, tubes running out of his body, his face mostly obscured by an oxygen mask, still haunted her.
“He looks okay now.”
“He’s a good actor. It’s one of the things that made him a good agent.”
“Did you join the FBI because of him?”
“I guess so. I loved hearing stories about the jobs he’d been on. He always made it seem like such honorable, important work.”
“I think it is.”
“It doesn’t look so shiny and pure from the inside.”
“Nothing does. I was in the army, remember? What we did was important, but the bureaucracy behind it wasn’t always easy to live with.”
At least a dozen people were already gathered around several picnic tables in the open-sided pavilion in the center of the campground. Stacy paused just inside to get her bearings, and her father caught up with them.
“See anybody you know?” George asked.
“I do,” Connor said.
Stacy glanced at him. “Over there, at the table in the center. Isn’t that Jace Dennison?”
The snowboarder was wearing the same pants and jacket he’d had on this afternoon, a gray knit beanie pulled down over his blond hair.
“Let’s go say hello,” Stacy said and started toward him. George and Connor followed.
Jace looked up, then nodded at their approach. “Hey,” he said.
“How are you doing?” Stacy asked. “I’m Stacy, by the way. We didn’t exactly have time to introduce ourselves this afternoon. And you remember Connor.”
Connor offered his hand, and Jace shook it. “Yeah, of course. Thanks again.” His gaze shifted to George.
“I’m George. Stacy’s dad.” George shook hands, too. “Stacy was telling me about this group, and I came out to see if I could help.”
“We don’t get many SkyCrest employees.” Jace frowned at Connor.
Connor slid onto the bench beside Jace. “I’d probably lose my job if my boss knew I was here, but it’s no secret I’m no fan of their expansion plans.”
“Why not?” Jace asked. “Job security and all that.”
“Hah!” Connor leaned toward Jace. “Ski patrol is already shorthanded, and they expect us to patrol new terrain without adding staff. And they’re sure not going to pay us more.
” He shook his head. “And I live in this town, too. The last thing we need is more tourists. Corporations like the one that runs SkyCrest are ruining this country.”
Stacy’s eyes widened. Connor did an impressive job of sounding authentically disgruntled. Exactly the sort of man who would appeal to saboteurs looking for inside access to the resort.
“Welcome, folks.” An older man with jowls like a bulldog, a canvas jacket hugging his broad shoulders and barrel chest, joined them. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
“I’m George.” George stuck out his hand. “And this is my daughter, Stacy, and her boyfriend, Connor.”
“Connor works for SkyCrest,” Jace said. “For ski patrol.”
“So I heard.” The older man nodded. “I’m Shane. I organized this group to protest the Blaine Mountain expansion.”
“Shane who?” Stacy asked.
The older man eyed her warily. “Just Shane.”
“We’re here to help any way we can,” George said, before Stacy could respond.
Shane was still studying Connor. “We’re always happy to welcome new volunteers.
” He looked away and, raising his voice, said, “Let’s get started, folks.
We have a lot to talk about.” He assumed a wide-legged stance at the front of the pavilion, the posture of a coach before the big game.
“First of all, thanks for coming all the way out here on a cold night,” he said.
“We felt like we needed to get a little farther away from town because we heard rumors the sheriff’s department planned to disrupt our meetings as illegal gatherings.
They don’t have a legal leg to stand on, but it’s just another way to hassle us. ”
Angry murmurs rose from the crowd.
“We’re all here tonight because we care about the same things,” Shane continued. “SkyCrest Resort is trying to take land from the public, close it off to free access to ordinary people like us and charge for the privilege of recreating there, further lining their own pockets.”
Boos rose up from several in the crowd.
Shane nodded. “They’ve done this sort of thing before. Back in 1968, my grandfather fell on hard times, and the resort developers took advantage of him to buy a big chunk of our family ranch for a criminally low price. They’re trying the same kind of swindle with Blaine Mountain.”
More boos. Shane waited for the clamor to subside.
“I won’t keep you standing around in the cold,” he said.
“The main purpose of tonight’s gathering is to plan our next protest. As you know, in a little over a week, we’ll celebrate Martin Luther King weekend.
It’s one of the busiest weekends of the year at SkyCrest, so there will be lots of tourists in the ski village and on the slopes.
It’s our opportunity to make a big impact. ”
Stacy compressed her lips together. Did Shane intend for the word impact to sound so sinister, or did she only think that because she suspected the group had four boxes of explosives at their disposal?
“Tourists are all for the expansion,” someone toward the back of the pavilion said. “If they’re fighting the holiday crowds, they’ll be even more in favor of new terrain.”
“Not if we can help them see how unsafe the idea is,” Shane said.
Stacy tensed.
“How do we do that?” Jace asked.